If You Don't, I Will

If You Don't, I Will (2014) is a thoughtful exploration of a fading marriage and rediscovery of self, amidst the glaring mundanity of midlife existence. It resonates profoundly in the authenticity of its characters and the depth of the themes it addresses.

The exquisite Emmanuelle Devos plays Pomme, a woman in her fifties who has been in a stable yet stagnant relationship for years. Mathieu Amalric portrays her husband Pierre, a successful professional who, much like his wife, is grappling with the tedious predictability of their lives. They have a son, Romain, played by Nelson Delapalme, who is seemingly detached from the turmoil gradually widening the rift between his parents and the only glue holding their tottering relationship together.

Directed by Sophie Fillières, the film unfolds in an impressive and relatable juxtaposition of universal emotions - boredom, confusion, resentment, and, above all, the sharp sting of indifference. Stripped of cumbersome pretense or theatrics, the film presents a raw portrayal of a marriage on the brink of collapse.

The movie's story takes a turn when Pomme rebels against her stagnant life and chooses to isolate herself from the world, a sign of her desperation to break free from her routine existence. She decides to retreat to the forest, armed only with bare essentials, and asserts that she would return only if she feels ready to do so. This act of rebellion is Fillières' way of highlighting the struggle of a woman trapped in the confines of her routine and searching for an escape into the solitude of her own mind.

Pierre, on the other hand, is often shown as aloof and indifferent, unconcerned about Pomme's mental health or apprehensive about the possibility of losing her. Whether or not their relationship will mend or crumble forms the crux of the narrative, with occasional dips into the mundane aspects of Pomme's journey towards self-discovery.

Apart from the intriguing plot, what sets this film apart is its superb execution and stellar performances. Emmanuelle Devos sketches an extraordinarily detailed portrayal of a woman struggling to retain her identity amidst the grey monotony of her life. Is it discontentment, hopelessness, or simply a longing for identity beyond the realm of wife and mother that prompts her to retreat into the wilderness? This enigma is left to the viewer's interpretation, adding to the film's intrigue.

Mathieu Amalric is brilliant in his portrayal of Pierre. He precisely showcases the suppressed frustration and sense of helplessness often experienced by individuals witnessing the emotional self-destruction of close ones but seemingly unable to prevent it. Lastly, Anne Brochet has a compelling presence in the movie despite her brief appearance, adding an exciting dash of complexity to the narrative.

In terms of the craftsmanship of film-making, Fillières' approach is worth commendation. She instills a rawness in her narrative that feels almost overwhelmingly real. She beautifully threads humor and sadness in a way that enhances each emotion's potency. There are scenes full of silence—loud, echoing silences that allow the characters to converse without actually saying a word.

In essence, If You Don't, I Will is not just a movie about a woman's journey towards self-rediscovery or the turmoil in a failing marriage. It's a poetic narrative that explores the intricacies of human nature and the complexity of relationships. The film tackles thought-provoking themes of love in partnership, individuality, marital stagnation, emotional disconnect, and personal growth with incredible sensitivity and depth.

The film, truth be told, is not for everyone. It demands patience, introspection, and an appreciation for subtle nuances. For those willing to brave its slow pace and quiet demeanor, however, If You Don't, I Will indeed offers a thought-provoking exploration of the human condition. It's a gentle, poignant reminder that while relationships may bind us, they must never overshadow one's individual quest for self-identity, purpose, and happiness.